


To grieve, we must first be allowed to have loved.

by Munnin



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 06:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15358224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin
Summary: Obi-Wan runs into Master Dooku in the Hall of Remembrance just after Qui-Gon's funeral.





	To grieve, we must first be allowed to have loved.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a what-if story inspired by the fact Dooku renounced the Jedi Order after Qui-Gon's death. 
> 
> What if, rather than a part of a Sith plot, Dooku was a good man who simply wanted to grieve.

Obi-Wan paused in the doorway of the great domed chamber, eyes drawn upwards by the complex pattern that adorned the walls and ceiling. He was in awe of the Hall of Remembrance. A feeling that had never dulled, not since the first time Qui-Gon had brought him there. 

The hall was huge and yet managed to feel intimate and warm. The vast floor space was broken up by meditations pools and garden beds, stone benches created little niches for contemplation. The soaring arch of the roof gave the impression of a vaulted sky by day and glittered with constellations of kyber by night.

The dichotomy always stuck Obi-Wan but somehow it was stronger now – a feeling of being both humblingly small and part of whole so much greater than himself.

Everything felt a little strange, a little off kilter. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The loss of his Padawan’s braid. The new robes. Everything felt a little too big, a little too heavy; a little too fast.

Obi-Wan was a Master now. Anakin’s Master. Just as Qui-Gon had wanted. 

He wanted desperately to honour Qui-Gon’s wishes, his master’s last words but…

Some selfish part of him resented it. 

Resented being left with a child he barely knew. Being pushed into the statue of master before he’d even gained the status of knight. 

And worst of all, he resented that Qui-Gon’s last thoughts had not been for him.

He sat down heavily on one of the stone benches, trying to centre himself in the Force. Trying to shed the selfish thoughts that would lead him to darkness. 

“If only Master Qui-Gon were here.”

It took Obi-Wan a moment to realise someone had spoken, and the words weren’t just an echo of his own thoughts. 

He looked up, glancing around to the source. And was suddenly ashamed to realise there was another Jedi on the hall. A Jedi whose presence he’d neither seen nor sensed. 

Flushing with shame and chagrin, Obi-Wan dipped his head in polite greeting. “Forgive me, Master. I didn’t mean to intrude on your contemplation.”

“Nor I on yours.” The Jedi stepping out from behind a pillar. “But I sense we have come here with similar purpose. To seek solace in the remembrance of Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan blanched a little, only further ashamed to have displayed such emotional unbalance in the presence of the austere Master Dooku. “He is one with the living Force.” He answered, trying to hide the sheen of unshed tears. “We should rejoice for him.”

Dooku’s expression saddened. “Yes. That is what we are taught. That all is the will of the Force. And to ignore our natural sorrows at having lost one we love.” 

Dooku tutted at Obi-Wan’s unguardedly reproachful look. “Why should we not speak of love? Because attachment is forbidden? Because we are indoctrinated to forgo family?” The older Master sat down slowly, as if feeling a great weight of age on his bones. “I loved Qui-Gon as a son. My greatest pride was in seeing the Jedi he became. Just as I know he loved and was proud of you.”

Obi-Wan felt his throat tighten, the surge of emotion crashing on him like an unexpected wave. Love, joy, pride – pride that Qui-Gon thought of him that way, that Qui-Gon had been so proud of him that it showed to others. 

But shame too. Shame at being selfish. At being sad. And being so very afraid of the task Qui-Gon had left to him. 

And resentment of that burden. At being pushed so fast into a role he didn’t feel himself ready for. At Anakin for being someone, *something* so special that Obi-Wan was instantly eclipsed in his master’s eyes. That Qui-Gon had been so ready to cast him aside just to take Anakin as his padawan. 

And back to shame. For even thinking such things. 

Dooku’s hand rested lightly on Obi-wan’s shoulder. “Everything you are feeling is natural. Everything you are feeling is normal.”

“Not for a Jedi.” Obi-Wan hastily answered, wiping an errant tear with his sleeve. “I should be better than this.” 

Dooku huffed bitterly and stood, pacing between to and fro along the end of the sparkling pond. “I’ve come to doubt the wisdom of what the Jedi *should be*. There is so much we are taught to believe, *told* to believe. So much that comes from pure arrogance.” 

“Master?” Obi-Wan couldn’t hide his shock. He’d heard Qui-Gon question the council more than once. But never so openly, so blatantly as Master Dooku was now.

“I’ve come from meeting with the High Council.” Dooku sighed, sitting down again. “There’s much division regarding the Sith you encounter. The one who-” He cut himself off and looked away. 

Obi-Wan could feel the grief coming off the older master like radiating cold. “The one who killed Qui-Gon.” It was a memory that would never leave him. A memory that had haunted every sleepless hour since that moment.

“There are several members of the Council refusing to accept that the Sith could have risen without their knowledge. There is so much fear in them.”

“Fear leads to anger.” Obi-Wan heard Master Yoda’s words come out of his mouth, almost without realising he’d said them.

Dooku turned dark and heavy eyes on him. Eyes that burned with an inner fire fuelled by what, Obi-Wan could not quite say. “So we are indoctrinated to believe.” 

The words fell like lead on the quiet hall. Words of such weight they could never be taken back.

“What… what will you do?” Obi-Wan was suddenly very afraid. Afraid that he was standing at the tipping point of some terrible. Something dangerous and unrecoverable. 

But the sigh that answered him was too tired, too broken. Not the spark of a rebellion but the quenching of hope. 

Dooku ran long fingers through his thinning grey hair. “I cannot stay here. Not in a place where I cannot mourn Qui-Gon. Where I cannot acknowledge my love or my loss.”

“You’ll… go to another temple? Somewhere off Coruscant?” Obi-Wan asked, somewhat confused. 

Dooku turned and laid his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, his dark eyes sharp but somehow kind. “No, child. I’m leaving the Jedi Order. As are others.”

“But you can’t!” Obi-Wan found himself clinging to Dooku, hands buried in the austerely tailored robes. He’d barely spoken to Master Dooku before today but he had heard Qui-Gon’s stories. The pride and affection Qui-Gon had had for his former master. But all of a sudden it felt like Obi-Wan was losing another part of himself, of the family he never realised he was part of. “Please, you can’t go.” 

“I can. And I must.” Dooku cupped Obi-Wan’s cheek. “You should come with me. There is a rot at the heart of the Order. And it will consume every Jedi, no matter how pure of heart.”

Obi-Wan yanked away so violently he nearly tripped over the stone bench. “I can’t! The Order, the Jedi! They’re all I-” he cut himself off from the bitterness of where that thought was going. “I made a commitment. To the Order, to galaxy.”

“You were a child, taken from your family and brainwashed.” Dooku advanced. “We all were. We were told over and over to give, to serve, to hold nothing for ourselves. What life is that? When we can’t love, can’t mourn, can’t make a family. They have made us slaves to a lie” He was leaning over Obi-Wan now, looming over him, eyes fierce and bright. 

“I made a promise.” Obi-Wan’s voice sounded weak even to himself. “To train the boy. I promised Qui-Gon. His dying wish. If there is a rot, Qui-Gon would have wanted me to stay. To do something about it.”

The fire seemed to go out of Dooku at once, leaving nothing but grief. He stepped back, leaning on a pillar as if he needed its support. “You are a good man, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon taught you well.” He gathered himself up with a desolate sigh. “I hope our paths cross again someday.” Without looking back, Dooku headed towards the door. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if it was the resigned anguish he heard in Dooku’s voice or the broken lines of the Master’s usually so squared shoulders, but something made him chase after Dooku. 

Perhaps it was the permission to feel that Dooku had given him – the encouragement to grieve and admit weakness, to love. 

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around the taller man’s waist in an unexpected hug. “May the Force be with you, Master.”

Dooku held him for a long moment, relishing the warmth of touch the Order so denied them both. With a slow kiss of benediction to Obi-Wan’s bowed head, Dooku answered in kind. “And with you, my boy.”


End file.
